Page 8 of Slash & Burn

Clearly, neither option was appealing.

Every childhood emotion I’d felt for Grady over the years was lifting to the surface like a polaroid, the picture of our past filling me up no matter how hard I was trying to stomp it down.

Lis clucked her tongue. “I think we both know that man is far from average. But for your sake I will keep my intrusive thoughts to myself.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said, coming to sit in the chair beside my desk, leaning over conspiratorially. “Because if I’m right, and this guy is as smooth an operator as I think, I want you to promise to tell me the second he makes a move. I need to know what those hands feel like when he?—”

“Lis!” As if I needed any help conjuring inappropriate visions of the man.

“What? We both know his reputation. He’s a charmer. A hockey Casanova, as they say.” She winked at me, waggling her eyebrows with a Cheshire grin. “And you, my lucky friend, are about to be the main woman in his orbit. There’s no way he doesn’t take a swing at a ticket as hot as you.”

Her compliment should have made me feel better. But all it did was remind me of the few photos I’d been too slow to avoid over the years of Grady out in the city with some model on his arm.

“I’m pretty sure the small town librarian type is not what he goes for.”

“Your ignorance to how much you’re a living, breathing male fantasy is adorable. Tall, sexy, smart?—”

“Stop. Please. I’m begging.”

She barked out a laugh that filled the room. I ducked my head, glancing around and sighing with relief when I didn’t see my boss, Cleo, or any of the others around.

“Please just drop it.”

“Fine. Ruin my hopes and dreams,” she pouted, shoving up and going back to the cart of returns she was sorting. “I think you could have a lot of fun with this, Jill. But you’d have to pull that stick out of your ass first.”

There was no stick up my ass. There was, however, a pounding in my head. Between Lis, this program, and now Grady, this was going to be a long summer.

CHAPTER 4

GRADY

Cory: You back yet?

Grady: Yeah, got in last weekend

Cory: Drinks tonight?

Ihesitated, pulling back at another damp sheet as I stared down at the blinking cursor and I tried to figure out the best way to avoid my friend. Cory and I hadn’t seen much of each other over the years beyond our traditional Thanksgiving football match. But now that he was retired from motocross, he was back living in Holden Cove full time, and I’d been looking forward to hanging out with him this summer.

Just not yet.

I scraped my hand down my face, coming away with a sweaty palm and a sickness in my stomach. The clock on the nightstand said nine, but it could have been noon for all I knew. Nightmares had me up most of the night, but at least the house was empty so no one had been around to hear me scream.

Grady: Can’t tonight. Friday?

Cory: Sure. The Docks?

I swallowed. The last place I wanted to be was at a bar on the shore of the lake. Even picturing the familiar deck overlooking the cove was enough to make my stomach roll. There was no way I could avoid the lake all summer, and I didn’t want to, but I wasn’t ready to be that close to water yet.

Grady: How about Hole Shot? Hit the driving range with a couple of beers?

Cory: I’ll be there

Swinging a golf club would be good for my shoulder, I told myself as I tossed my phone on the bed and swung my legs over the side. I’d sort of hoped being back home would help with the nightmares and panic attacks. But thus far I’d been proven wrong.

Tilting my head, I cracked both sides of my neck, the pops ringing out in the quiet morning. The docs kept reminding me my body was still healing from surgery, and plenty of tension lingered to prove their point. Stretching my arms overhead felt like a triumph, especially after having to keep my shoulder immobile for so long. The weakness on that side was noticeable, but I was determined to get back to normal. When I stepped out on the ice for our opener in the fall, I wanted it to be like I’d never left.

---